


Hey, Isn't This Easy

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Marvel
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, First Kiss, Light-Hearted, M/M, Misunderstanding, Pining, Steve POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 17:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20746361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Why can't Tony see that he belongs with Steve?Written for an anon on tumblr, who requested Taylor Swift Song + Stony, and suggested "You Belong with Me.”





	Hey, Isn't This Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Contains mentions of Tony/Jan and Steve/Tigra, but I promise there's no cheating in this fic.

It’s a Friday night and Steve’s at his desk, reading.

He knows that this seems to be a cliché – Captain America, doing homework while most of the other students are out and about? Not that Steve’s ever cared about clichés, but in this case, appearances are definitely deceiving.

Steve’s desk is by the window, and Steve’s dorm room faces Stark Tower. The fact that he has this room is completely unintentional, because it’s not like Steve even _knew_ Tony when he first arrived at the Academy. But this is the situation that exists today, and it means that every time Steve looks up, he can tell a few things at glance: if Tony is at the Tower (the penthouse lights would all be switched on), if Tony needs help (there’s smoke, or someone’s attacking the building), or if Tony’s in a playful or attention-seeking mood (the words streaming across the digital banner include swearing or memes).

It also means that when Tony takes flight from the Tower, Steve knows immediately. Even if Steve misses the flash of red and gold, the distinct hum-roar of Tony’s repulsor-rocket combo travels across the distance between the two buildings, and is perfectly easy to pick out among the many and varied noises that make up the Academy’s daily soundtrack. Sure, there are something like two dozen students with flying capabilities on campus these days, but Steve’s hearing is… precise.

Tonight, Steve’s intent is to sit here and read for a while, up until – yep, there he is.

Tony launches from the Tower’s helipad, kicking off in his stripped-down armor that always makes Steve’s chest tighten with concern due to the lack of helmet. Tony flies in a wide arc, twirling twice as he goes, before coming to hover in front of Steve’s window.

Tony peers into the room, his hair askew and his eyes sparkling. This is a habit turned ritual; Tony the Peter to Steve’s Wendy, and an adventure elsewhere beckoning to them both. Steve’s chest tightens for completely different reasons.

“Please don’t tell me you’re doing homework,” Tony says.

Steve closes his book. “I’m not doing homework.”

“Good.” Tony sinks a little, until only his head and shoulders are visible through the window. “I’m bored, let’s go to one of the clubs.”

“Shouldn’t you be bored _of_ the clubs?” Steve says.

“Shouldn’t you be bored of telling me what I should be bored with?” Tony puts a hand on the window pane, a plaintive plea for attention. “Come out with me. I’m sure we can find someone interesting for you to pick a fight with.”

“If that’s your idea of a fun time, I’m going to pass.”

“No, that’s my idea of something that will _start_ the fun. A jumping-off point, as it were, because I’ve heard that the AIM minions are still…” Tony’s spiel cuts off at the trill of his ringtone. He glances at his left gauntlet, where one of the screens is lit up with an incoming call. Tony’s face drops into a frustrated scowl. “Sorry, it’s Jan, I’ve got to take this. See you at the door?”

“Sure.” Steve’s already on his feet, and grabs his jacket from its hook. He slips said jacket on as Tony sinks out of view, and does not let uncharitable thoughts about Jan sink into his own brain.

Janet Van Dyne is a _great_ gal. She’s funny, smart, brave, inspiring, and by all accounts a wonderful girlfriend for Tony. She and Tony were among the first students on campus and clicked so well, so by the time Steve got here, they were already together, a unit that was understood would always be a unit. It makes sense. They’re both energetic and frenetic and sometimes speak a language Steve barely understands. Steve has never begrudged either of them this relationship, which has nothing to do with and has not stopped Steve from somehow becoming one of Tony’s closest friends.

But sometimes, like now, when Steve steps out the dorm building and gets to hear the tail end of Tony’s argument with Jan over the phone, he wonders.

“It doesn’t matter!” Tony’s hissing into his gauntlet phone. “I don’t care what you choose.”

“_You don’t care what _I _choose?_” Jan exclaims. “_We’re supposed to do this together._”

“But every suggestion I’ve made, you’ve shot down!” Tony returns.

“_That is unfair and untrue_.”

Tony’s mouth opens on a silent groan. He notices Steve’s approach and makes an apologetic gesture with a hand. Steve nods, and politely turns away to leave them to their conversation.

Steve truly, genuinely likes Jan, but every so often he can’t help thinking: if he’d arrived at the Academy before Jan did, would things be different? Would Tony have perhaps ended up with someone else? Someone else like Steve, maybe, who just got here a little late but found a way into a friendship with Tony that’s amazing and unbelievable and has been responsible for the extra spring in Steve’s step every day lately?

There are only wistful thoughts, though, and never to be acted upon. Tony’s the best thing about Steve’s Avengers Academy experience, bar none, and it feels selfish to even think about wanting more.

Tony finishes the call with a decisive click, and turns to Steve with an overly bright smile. “Sorry about that. With the show coming up, you know how it is.”

“High priority, yes,” Steve agrees, which has Tony’s smile turning wider and genuine. “It would not do to have the Asgardians showing us up at the party.”

“See, you understand.” Tony bounces on his feet, and loops a hand around Steve’s forearm in tugging him into a walk. Steve goes with it, obviously, because there is little in the world more compelling than Tony when he’s excited. “Most important project this week, for sure.”

“More important than the rollerskate armor you’re working on?” Steve says.

“Rollerskates, pfft, old news,” Tony says. “I’ve got an idea for a variant of the Hulkbuster, also I’m not going to call it that anymore because it hurts Bruce’s feelings.”

“You have a Capbuster armor,” Steve points out.

“Which doesn’t hurt your feelings, because _you_ know that the name comes from a place of affection, and is a reference to that time where you made me feel inadequate by your presence, which you know now to not be the case anymore.” Tony says all of this while leaning into Steve’s space, daring and confident and unbearably handsome.

But Steve’s used to this by now. The flutter in his stomach is a near-permanent fixture whenever Tony’s around (and sometimes even when he’s not), so it’s easy enough for Steve to say mildly, “Too bad about the rollerskates, though. I’d drawn some racing stripes designs for your boots.”

Tony gasps. “No! Show me.”

“What for? Rollerskates are old news—” Steve laughs when Tony pokes him in the side. “I didn’t bring it with me.”

“Why not!” Tony tries to spin them around to head back to the dorm, but Steve plants his feet, making it his turn to drag Tony along. “Hey!”

“You wanted to go out, so we’re going out,” Steve says firmly. “I’ll show you my sketches later.”

“You sure?” Tony says. “You promise?”

“Of course. Give you something to look forward to.”

“Or it’s some nefarious plan to get me up to your…” Tony blinks, as though just remembering who he’s talking to. Steve can hear the rest of the joke well enough, as well as the reason for Tony’s nipping it before the punchline; Steve’s not really the kind of person who’d try to lure someone who’s very much taken up to his dorm room. It could be funny to say that out loud, but not that funny.

“It’s okay for me to draw stuff for your armors, right?” Steve says. “I mean, Jan does most of your…”

“It’s fine.” Tony sighs. “And thanks for the reminder.” He taps at his gauntlet, pulling up his custom keyboard that he quickly swipes through in putting a message together. “Better drop her a note. I love her, but she gets _so _stressed whenever there’s a party coming up. And she loves parties! But it makes her so…” Tony gives Steve a meaningful look. “And I don’t like adding to that stress, I guess.”

Steve presses his lips together. It wouldn’t do to be an ass and say something like: well if it’s _that_ stressful to be together with Jan, then maybe—

No. Steve will not be that petty. (But he’d be so good to Tony. He _would_.)

“She never stays mad for long,” Steve manages.

“True. Still.” Tony shoots off the message and turns his attention back to Steve. “Where are we going?”

“Club A.”

“God, why. It’s Friday, it’s going to be packed.”

“You’re the one who wanted to go.”

“Did I? How uninspiring. Let’s sneak out and do some petty vandalism at Hydra School.”

The rest of their trek to the recreation quadrant is spent in a lively debate that boils down to Steve’s going, “No, Tony,” while Tony tries to weasel around it. It’s not even a real debate; Tony’s brand of trouble comes from executing ideas as soon as he’s thought them up, and the fact that he’s discussing the possibility of TP’ing Hydra School with Steve at all means that he’s not actually taking it seriously.

They’re just a few yards away from the thumping bass and flashing lights of Club A when Tony perks up.

“Oh, right!” Tony says brightly. “Now I remember. I was thinking that we should come to Club A to get you a date for the dance.”

Steve suppresses a groan. “Tony.”

“Because it’s just not healthy that you’ve been pining for weeks—”

“Tony.”

“—over someone who is obviously not worth your time—”

“I think I get to decide that, not you,” Steve says firmly. Tony’s mouth snaps shut, and his gaze skitters away – almost self-consciously, which is uncharacteristic for Tony in general.

Tony may be one of Steve’s best friends (he’d say _the_ best friend, but that sounds presumptuous in Steve’s head) yet there are still a couple of sticking points between them. One of them being Steve’s very big mistake a couple of weeks ago when he’d let slip during a group hangout that there’s someone he has a crush on. Steve remembers exactly what happened: Bucky said something about double dates with Natasha, and Steve accidentally said that it’s unlikely he’ll ever get to do that with the person he wants, and Tony…well. Tony heard it, and because good friends try to help when their friends have problems, Tony decided that Steve’s persistent singlehood was a problem he needed to tackle.

“I’m just saying,” Tony says. “The fact that you haven’t been on a single date since Tigra is—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve says with a laugh. “It really doesn’t.”

“Look, if you just try to talk to someone new, maybe someone you haven’t thought of like _that_ before, instead of this, this suffering quietly—”

“It isn’t suffering,” Steve insists. “It’s the opposite of suffering.”

Tony makes a face. “How the hell can it be the opposite of suffering?”

Because Steve gets to hang out with Tony anyway. He gets to go to classes with Tony, and train with Tony, and fight with Tony, and knows that they’ll always have each other’s backs. It’s the best kind of amazing, and it doesn’t matter that Steve will never have the rest of it, because this is more than he’d ever thought he’d get in the first place.

“Because suffering implies that I don’t want to feel this way,” Steve says carefully. “That I want _this_ gone. Which is not the case at all.”

Tony stares at Steve for a long moment. It’s hard to read his expression – admiration, maybe, and a touch of wistfulness and disappointment, though Steve cannot blame him for the latter. Tony, of course, is happily in a relationship, so it’s natural for him to want Steve to have the same.

“That’s nice, I guess, in a way,” Tony says quietly. “That you're so…”

“Persistent?” Steve grins, and knocks his shoulder against Tony’s. “I _am_ stubborn.”

“You are,” Tony agrees. “Wouldn’t change that about you.”

A warm flush rises up Steve’s neck. It’s silly to be so affected by Tony like this, but Steve wouldn’t change that either.

“I know you just want me to be happy,” Steve says, and Tony nods quickly. “That’s real sweet of you, but it’s fine. I promise.”

“We’re going into Club A anyway,” Tony declares in a louder tone of voice that indicates that he’s taking Steve’s lead in dropping the topic, though he’s reserving the right to return to it later. “I’m hungry.”

“Dare I ask when’s the last time you ate?”

“You can dare all you like, Steve.”

They enter Club A together, slipping into the throng of dancing, chatting, shouting students. Vision’s the DJ tonight, which means that there’s a light show to match the music, though thankfully they’ve kept the ban on the smoke machine.

They say hi to their friends on their way to the bar. Tony almost gets distracted, too, by Loki’s challenge to take the dancefloor, but Steve carefully steers Tony back on track, all the way to the bar where they place their orders with the robot in charge.

“Three boxes of fries on top of a burger?” Steve side-eyes Tony. “You can’t finish three whole boxes.”

“Sure I can, with the super-serum stomach on standby.” Tony pokes at Steve’s stomach, and makes a face. “Ugh, it’s like poking a brick wall.”

“I’m not going to finish your fries for you,” Steve says.

Natasha, who’s sitting at a stool down the bar, says, “Of course you are, Steve.”

“See, Nat agrees,” Tony says. “Make it four boxes, my good robot!”

“I’m not hungry!” Steve protests.

“You’re always hungry, you’re just as bad as not noticing it as I am,” Tony replies, which Steve realizes with a start is actually true. “Don’t worry, we’ll burn it off later when I show you my new suit.”

They eat and chat and enjoy the ambiance, while various friends drift in and out. There’s T’Challa, who asks for training advice; Sam and Sharon, who pass by just to steal some of Tony’s fries; Clint, who’s forgotten what he’s looking for and fails to recruit Natasha to his cause of finding it; and Kamala, who invites Tony onto the dancefloor with her.

Tony asks Steve to join them, of course, but Steve demurs. Tony makes a face – that face that says just because Steve prefers old-fashioned dancing, that doesn’t mean he can’t join them – but Steve is insistent, and stays at the bar where he finishes off the last of the fries.

Steve’s still at the bar when the music changes, from a hip-hop remix of an old disco song, to a less retro but still jaunty country-pop track that has Kamala – still on the dancefloor with Tony – throw her hands in the air and shout, “Thanks, Vision!”

“Whoa, throwback,” Scott says, while Natasha scoffs.

“Not a fan of Taylor Swift?” Steve says.

Natasha raises eyebrow. “You know Taylor Swift?”

“’Course he knows Taylor Swift,” Scott says archly. “She speaks to the romantic soul! And Cap is a full-fledged romantic.”

“I doubt that’s the case,” Steve says.

“But her songs are so…” Natasha makes a face. “They’re not exactly relatable.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve says with a laugh. “This is the one where she’s in love with a boy who’s with someone else, right? She knows the boy so well, they’re best friends, they understand each other, they bring each other up when they’re down, and they’d be so, _so _perfect for each other, if only there were some way to make him see beyond the – the supposed limitations and assumptions of their friendship, to what they could be. Sure, Natasha, that’s not relatable _at all_.”

Natasha’s eyebrows have been getting progressively higher through Steve’s summary of the song. Scott’s tilting his head, too, confused but aware that there’s something else going on.

“Didn’t know you liked Tay, too,” Tony says behind Steve.

Steve stiffens. He turns, and there’s Tony, slightly sweaty from dancing, but very much just an arm’s length away instead of at the safe minimum distance of the dancefloor. “Oh hey,” Steve says. “Uh, I finished the fries, if you want to order some more?”

“No,” Tony says. “No, it’s fine, I uh… A drink though, maybe?”

Steve turns quickly to make a new order, grateful for something to do. When he turns back, Tony’s sitting on his stool again, Scott having moved one seat over closer to Natasha.

When Steve zones back into the conversation he realizes, to his horror, that the topic hasn’t moved on.

“But it _is_ relatable,” Tony’s saying to Natasha, while Scott makes a small whoop of agreement. “Okay, yes, it’s not cool that the singer’s implying that short skirts are like, evil, or whatever, but that’s only there as a symbol. High heels, short skirts – that’s what the love interest _thinks_ is what he wants, which is why he goes for it.”

“Yes, exactly,” Steve says, surprising himself. The others look at him, and Tony’s eyes widen with surprise, but Steve presses on: “I don’t know if Ms. Swift meant it that way or not, but there’s a self-deprecating feel to it? Like the singer is simplifying the reasons why the boy hasn’t noticed her to these shallow symbols she cannot fulfil, because otherwise, maybe the reason he just hasn’t noticed her is because… he just doesn’t want her like that.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, still looking at Steve. “You can read the whole thing as the singer trying to convince herself that she’s the boy’s dream girl.”

“Because that shifts the blame,” Steve says. “Instead of it being her fault for not being what he wants, it’s _his_ fault for not noticing what’s right front of him.”

Scott stares at both them, appalled. “That’s sad. I like my read better.”

“Actually, I have newfound appreciation for this song,” Natasha says. “Thank you.”

A lull in the conversation falls over them. The robot bartender delivers Tony’s drink, and Steve hands it over, every part of him hyperaware of Tony’s closeness, Tony’s elegant hands around the stein handle, and Tony’s eyes still on him. Steve’s vaguely aware of Scott saying that he needs to go somewhere and Natasha does that thing where she fades into the background, so now there’s a bubble that’s just the two of them.

“Steve,” Tony says, voice oddly tight. “What was that?”

“What?” Steve says.

“That – that whole…” Tony takes a quick gulp of his root beer. “About the song. That… came from somewhere.”

Steve stifles the horror rising in his throat. “It’s just an interesting thought exercise. You got into it, too!”

“Yeah, because it’s—” Tony cuts himself off with a quick headshake.

“Because it’s what?” Steve says, on the offense instead of defense. “Because it’s an interesting thought exercise.”

“No!” Tony hisses. “I mean, yes, a thought exercise, but also obvious, right? An obvious dynamic that’s easy to break down because you recognize – because you can recognize…”

Steve’s breath catches, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s just a song.”

“It’s me,” Tony says quietly. His one hand is still around the stein, but the other is on his knee, and it’s curled into a fist. “Don’t need to dance around it. You know it’s me. You know that I…” When Tony looks at Steve, his eyes are bright with misery. “You _know_.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve says rapidly, while Tony’s face twists. “You’re so important to me and I’d never push for anything more, I swear I’m not hanging around you only because I want…” Steve exhales shakily. “Being your friend means so much to me just the way it is.”

Tony startles, his brow furrowing. “What?”

“I can’t change how I feel about you, but it’ll never get in the way,” Steve says. “I promise.”

“Wait,” Tony says slowly. “Wait. You think you’re the girl? The singer?”

“Uh.” Steve blinks. “Wasn’t that… what you meant?”

“_I’m_ the girl,” Tony says. “I’m the girl, and you’re the boy who can’t see—”

“What?” Steve exclaims. “No, _you’re_ the boy who’s taken, you’re with Jan—”

Tony yelps. “I’m not with Jan! She’s my best friend for crying out loud, she’ll poke your eyes out for even saying that. _You’re_ the boy who’s still hung up over Tigra—”

“I am not!” Steve protests. “The only person I’m hung up over is you!”

“Oh.”

They sit there, side by side, both of them stunned silent and processing.

Steve’s head is reeling. He feels like he’s just been punched in the face, and not by an enemy, but by himself. There are too many conclusions racing past each other at the same time, all of them vying for Steve’s immediate attention, and Steve’s ability to prioritize has always been slightly flawed whenever it comes to Tony.

“You’re not with Jan?” Steve says.

“No,” Tony says. “Never. Is it because we cuddle a lot?”

“And kiss,” Steve says. “And dress up together, and do couples activities, and say you love each other all the time, and—”

“Okay, okay. Um.” Tony clears his throat. “So, all this time I’ve been trying to get you to get over your crush, I’ve been trying to get you to get over… me?”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“How self-sabotaging,” Tony says.

They fall silent again.

Steve’s brain is still a churning storm of confusion, but through it comes that line, that lyric: _Been here all along, so why can’t you see…_ A catchy tune, to be sure, but Steve contemplates that line for the first time from a brand-new vantage of point, where Tony’s been thinking that he’s the singer and the song is his feelings brought to full and relatable expression.

Tony’s been pining for Steve? It makes no sense.

It makes perfect sense.

“I do wear sneakers to Jan’s high heels,” Steve says tentatively.

“Oh, please,” Tony says, sounding as keyed up as Steve feels. “Tigra’s the cheer captain, and _I’m_ on the bleachers.”

“It’s not meant to be a one-to-one analogy.”

“Except where it counts.” Tony downs the rest his root beer, but the fact that his shoulders are almost up to his ears betrays his nerves. Steve longs to touch him – to at least squeeze his shoulder and say that everything will be okay, because everything _will_ be okay.

It’s just that right now their private little bubble is a world of awkward.

What does one do at a time like this? Should Steve ask Tony out? But they’re already out, so that’d be weird. Should Steve try to touch him? He could, but Tony seems so tense that he could snap from something as casual as a pat on the arm.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. Everything else between them is so easy, and this should just make it easier. What does Steve do when he’s facing a problem that he doesn’t have immediate solution for? He tells Tony.

_He tells Tony._

“That’s funny, isn’t it,” Steve says. “That we both turned out to have feelings for each other.”

“Funny,” Tony echoes wryly. “Embarrassing, is what it is.”

“Sure, it’s embarrassing right now, but that’ll pass soon, because there’s everything else.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Everything else what?”

“Everything else we can do together, now that we know,” Steve says. “I don’t have to, um. I don’t have to stop myself from telling you how I really feel, or how you make me feel. I can… I don’t know. I can hold your hand.”

“You want to hold my hand?” Tony says in surprise.

“Kiss you, too,” Steve says, aware of the sudden bloom of heat in his cheeks. “Eventually. That’s something to look forward to. I just… I guess I don’t know how to get to that point from here. Maybe you have a better idea?”

That gets a smile out of Tony, startled and genuine. “Actually, no, I don’t.”

“You’re a genius, and you don’t?” Steve counters.

“A genius in one field. Okay, a couple of fields, but definitely not this.” Tony’s shoulders relax, and he tips his head to one side thoughtfully. “If I were a genius in this, I would’ve noticed that you were talking about me this whole time.”

“We’re both the girl _and_ the boy in the song.”

“Oh god, that’s right.” Tony puts the stein down. A knot tightens between his eyebrows, the way it always does when facing a conundrum. “I guess we should get out of here?”

“Okay,” Steve says.

“But wouldn’t that make it awkward?” Tony says. “I mean, this, this, there’s emotional momentum here, right. And I know this is not the best place to be even talking about this but I feel like if I had to get up and walk past everyone, and go out _there _into the quiet, it’d make us – okay me – self-conscious all over again and I’m going to do something stupid I’ll immediately regret.”

“That does sound possible.” Steve looks at Tony. “I guess we should… kiss now? To get this locked down?”

Tony blinks. “Okay.”

“If that’s how excited you are—”

“Steve.” Tony puts a hand on Steve’s arm. “I don’t think it’s sunk in this is really happening right now. If I seem unexcited, it’s only ‘cause I think I’m gonna wake up at any second now.”

Steve frowns. “That’s not good.”

Tony’s right in that this isn’t the best place to do this. But at the same time, there’s comfort in being surrounded by so much noise – music, laughter, clapping, the crack of the balls at the pool table. If it were quiet, they’d both be compelled to fill that emptiness and be clumsy at it, but instead, they’re just two friends swallowed up by a ruckus that doesn’t care one way or another how they’re just staring at each other, trying to navigate this newness into something solid that they can hold on to.

Steve turns on his stool, one knee bumping Tony’s. Tony’s eyes dart away, then back up to Steve’s. The lighting isn’t great in the club, but Steve can see clearly Tony’s frozen-deer eyes and fullness of mouth. He seems to be holding his breath.

Steve leans in. He puts a hand on the bar top for balance, and then changes his mind and puts it on Tony’s arm instead. Tony jolts a little at a touch, but otherwise stays still. Steve comes in close enough that he not only hears, but _feels _Tony’s sharp intake of breath against his lips.

“You better kiss me back,” Steve whispers.

Tony’s gaze sharpens. He completes the motion, narrowing the few inches into nothing as he brings their mouths together.

Beyond the taste of root beer and smell of dance floor mess, there’s Tony. Steve is kissing Tony, his best friend who he thought was out of reach Tony, except not so much. Tony’s lips are soft and lush and giving, and they part gently against Steve’s, causing a small explosion at the back of Steve’s brain.

One kiss, for now.

They part, and carefully move back into sitting properly on their individual stools. Tony’s eyes are wide and he has a hand over his mouth, as if he’s trying to keep Steve’s kiss on him. Steve has to clasp his hands together to stop himself to reaching over for Tony’s waist and haul him over so they can keep going.

“Not a dream?” Steve says.

“Not a dream,” Tony confirms. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m floating,” Steve says bluntly. “You?”

“Not quite sure.” Tony reaches over and takes Steve’s hand, easy as anything. Steve’s hands are clammy, but he twines their fingers together, making Tony grin. “Ecstatic, but also confused. I am pretty sure I’ve never said that Jan’s my girlfriend, and you assuming that she was simply because we’re affectionate—”

“At least that is just cause!” Steve says. “How on earth could you think that I’m still hung up over Tigra, when I know I haven’t mentioned her name at all.”

“How do you explain Jan’s flirting with Thor, then, huh?”

“I don’t know how it works? Maybe you had an agreement with her?”

“So you’d rather assume that we had an open thing, instead of there not being a thing at all? You do know she’s going to lord this over you forever.” Tony scoffs, but he’s reaching for Steve, sliding his hands over Steve’s arms and up to his shoulders. Steve realizes that they’re going to kiss some more, and smash through the awkwardness of these recent revelations back to their easy, confident comfort.

Steve thinks it’s a pretty good strategy.

“Baby, can’t you see, you belong with me,” Tony sing-speaks as he inches his way back to Steve. “Don’t mind me, just dropping a prayer to our patron saint.”

“Tony, _no_—” But the rest of Steve’s protest is cut off when they start kissing again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post!](https://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/187898577631/if-youre-taking-prompts-stony-and-a-taylor-swift)


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